


The King is Dead

by Kisho



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-31
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-09-21 03:11:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9529238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kisho/pseuds/Kisho
Summary: The deed was done.Oswald Cobblepot was dead.





	

The deed was done. 

 

Oswald Cobblepot was dead. 

 

Edward Nygma walked the streets of Gotham alone. Debris scattered the city: a reminder of the events that had taken place the day before. Bodies littered the floor, and Edward stepped over them, just like he had stepped over Oswald, his dearest friend. They were all insects under his feet. 

 

Oswald’s pleads were still ringing in his ears. Those helpless pathetic pleas agitated Edward. He didn’t want to hear them then, and he didn’t want to hear them now. 

 

The citizens of Gotham, the ones who escaped imprisonment, walked back home in shame. Their paint was smeared, and their eyes were glued to the floor, afraid of judgement. These people were going to go back home and wash the blood off their hands, as if yesterday didn’t happen. If they could do that, so could Edward. 

 

His phone ring broke the eerie silence of street, and he answered quickly.

 

“What?”

 

“Did you do it?” asked a bubbly Barbara Kean, “Is he dead?”

 

“Yes,” Edward breathed.

 

“Long live the king!” Barbara laughed. 

 

Edward hung up the phone. Their partnership was over. The trio would rule the city of Gotham, and he would —

 

Actually, he had no idea what he would do now. 

 

* * *

 

Being back at his old apartment was strange. It felt like ages since Edward had last slept in his room.

 

It was also uncomfortable. Suffocating. The last time Edward was here, he was a different person. Coming back here was like putting on clothes that no longer fit. But he disliked the other options, so there was no use in complaining. 

 

The hall’s floor creaked, and Edward couldn’t help but imagine Oswald on the other side of the door, completely covered in white feathers. Excited to see him. 

 

He laid on his bed and stared at the empty space in front of him. A space that was once belonged to a dying Oswald.

 

Any memories of the man was useless. 

 

Oswald Cobblepot was dead. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this is so short, but I just wanted to write something. Tonight's episode made me sad


End file.
